


Non so ch'il tiene, non so cos'e

by writworm42



Category: Pretty Little Liars
Genre: AU, Blackmail, F/F, First Relationships, Flute - Freeform, Music, Orchestra, closet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-19
Updated: 2014-01-19
Packaged: 2018-01-09 05:42:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 19,335
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1142147
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writworm42/pseuds/writworm42
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Paily AU; Paige and Emily are best friends who met in the Rosewood high orchestra, where they both play flute. Now, in their senior year, they're beginning to realize their feelings for each other. When a rival threatens everything Paige knows and loves, they may be forced to confront those feelings sooner than they'd like.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Title taken from Voi Che Sapete (Mozart, from The Marriage of Figaro); translates roughly to 'I don't know how to hold it, don't know what it is. 
> 
> Trigger warnings for homophobia and bullying ahead!

All right, all right!” Paige walked into the room just in time to hear Ms. Fulton’s conducting-wand impatiently rapping the side of a music stand, the orchestra director barking over the sounds of not-yet-wet reeds and rowdy trombonists in an attempt to bring order about her students. “Settle down, everyone. We’ve only got ‘til eight today, so unless you all want to be here after school, let’s get started!”

Cringing, Paige tried to lighten her steps as she pressed against the wall, sidling in-between music stands and dodging bows left lazily at half-mast, hoping to get to her seat without the director (or, as the trombones had, quite aptly, named her, the Fultinator) noticing. It was the first day of orchestra since the new school year had started, and as a senior, Paige knew that Ms. Fulton was expecting her to set a good example—and showing up late wasn’t exactly model behaviour.

Still, she had almost made it to her seat. Just a few steps closer and everything would be okay…

_BA-ch- **BANG!**_

Paige froze at the explosive noise, stiffening under the sudden attention of the entire orchestra. Exhaling tersely, she cast a glance beside herself to see Noel Kahn, the orchestra’s lead percussionist, flashing a creepy smile in her direction.

“Sorry, Ms.,” he kept his gaze on Paige as his words echoed crisply off the ringing remainders of his cymbals, “Got distracted, must have dropped my stick.”

“It’s fine, Noel.” Paige swallowed hard as she turned to face her director. “Paige,” Ms. Fulton addressed the tardy girl, her words daggers as she crossed her arms sternly in front of her chest, “You’re late. I might expect this from a freshman, but the _head flautist_?” she tisked, shaking her head, “I’d expect more from you.”

Paige grimaced, a sick feeling rising in her chest. Ms. Fulton was, of course, right—it was the first day of orchestra, a day for new beginnings, for _good impressions_ , and Paige had blown it. Just like everything. Frowning, she muttered an apology and slunk over to her seat, knowing it wasn’t near enough. Fighting back tears, she quickly, quietly assembled her flute and turned to drag her music-dossier from its place at the bottom of her schoolbag when a hand rested gently on her shoulder, signalling for her to stop. Paige looked up to see Emily smiling at her, and instantly felt calm again, forgetting the stares of her bandmates as she straightened up, returning her partner’s smile.

“Forget that jerk,” Emily leaned over to whisper into Paige’s ear as Ms. Fulton launched into her usual ground-rule speech so typical of first rehearsals with the Rosewood High Orchestra, “Fulton’s just stressed, anyway.”

“Yeah.” Paige heard herself laugh a little, and was surprised at how confident she sounded—as calm as she felt next to Emily, Paige hated attention being drawn to herself, and she could still feel bitter pangs of insecurity sting at her chest, shooting down into shaking fingers. The feeling swelled as Emily noticed Paige’s condition, resting a comforting hand on Paige’s, offering up a sympathetic smile.

“You gonna be okay?” Emily cast a glance over to the front of the room to make sure no one was paying attention before turning her attention back to her partner, eyes full of concern. Paige inhaled sharply, trying her best to push her feelings aside; it was embarrassing enough to have Emily see her like this, but _fussing_ over her for it? The thought of Emily worrying about her, comforting her, taking _care_ of her, was too much for Paige to bear.

“Yeah,” Paige repeated, forcing a smile with more ease than she’d expected, “I’m fine.”

“Okay.” Emily smiled wider, her hand lingering a moment before dropping from Paige’s, gaze trailing for what Paige hoped would be longer before finally snapping to Ms. Fulton’s speech. Smirking, Paige cocked her head as she listened to Fulton outlining the proper use of cleaning-fluid.

“Remember when we heard this for the first time?” Emily mused, causing Paige to give a small laugh, finally cracking a smile.  

“Like it was yesterday.”

_“Hey, is this seat taken?” Paige looked up from her instrument to see a tall girl smiling down at her self-consciously, rocking back and forth on her heels as she clutched her flute case to her chest._

_“Um… No.” Paige looked away quickly, unsure of how to act. It was the second week of high school, and even though she’d made a few friends while drifting from class to class, she still felt shy around the other girls in her grade, like they were only talking to her to collect data, find a flaw they could judge her for. Still, something about this girl seemed different—perhaps it was the smooth way she smiled, the way eased into her seat as if she owned it._

_Paige had always felt more at ease around bold people._

_“I’m Emily, by the way.” the girl held her gaze on Paige as she unpacked her flute, placing the pieces together swiftly, almost mechanically. Paige looked away, suddenly painfully aware of the way her own instrument sat broken-looking on her lap, defiant against any attempts at assembly._

_“Here, can I help?” before Paige could even look back at her, Emily’s arms were in Paige’s laps, grabbing at her flute and assembling it with the same ease she’d used on her own. “It helps if you twist, rather than jamming it together.” undoing the head-joint, Emily repeated the action of screwing it into the middle-joint, slowly so that Paige could take note. “See?”_

_“Yeah,” Paige narrowed her eyes, inspecting Emily’s face for signs of contempt as she took her flute back from the other girl’s hands, “Thanks.”_

_“No problem. I had trouble when I started out, too.”_

_“How did you—“_

_“If you grew up here, that means we went to middle school together, right?” Emily cocked her head, frowning slightly. “I never saw you in band, though, which means you were probably in strings.”_

_“Yeah…” Paige answered, not quite sure what to make of Emily’s deductions, “I played the violin.”_

_Emily nodded eagerly, as if the revelation explained everything about Paige. “Nice. So what made you switch to the flute?”_

_Paige didn’t get to answer—the chatter bouncing about the room came to an abrupt stop, every student suddenly frozen._

_“Good morning,” the girls turned their attention to the front of the room just in time to see a large, stern-looking woman take her place at the front of the class, casting an icy smile on the orchestra in front of her. “For those of you who I haven’t yet met, my name is Ms. Fulton, and I’m the head of the music department here at Rosewood High._

_“I’m very pleased to see such a great turn-out this year. I see a lot of returnees, including our heads-of-section—heads, could you stand up for a second? Thank you.”_

_Paige watched as a few students shifted uncomfortably, wrestling with instruments to stand awkwardly, propped up against teetering music-stands. Ms. Fulton signalled for them to sit, and a great clatter arose as the head of tubas, a short, bespectacled student, dropped his instrument trying to finagle his way back into his seat. Sighing heavily, Ms. Fulton pursed her lips with displeasure and waited until the kerfuffle rising through the room had died back down before continuing._

_“Now, I can only hope that these numbers will persist throughout the rest of the year. That is, both that you’ll all be committed to returning, and that your behaviour and performance will be good enough that I will_ allow _you to return.”_

_Paige swallowed hard, casting a worried glance next to her. Emily was staring straight ahead, her face finally possessing an air of seriousness as she hung onto Ms. Fulton’s every word._

_“In order to prevent numbers dwindling, let’s focus on some ground-rules. First, practice every day. Even days we have rehearsals! Don’t just practice consistently, but practice_ smartly _. Pick the worst section of a piece and go through it slowly, really pick at the details. Otherwise you might as well not practice at all.”_

_“Sounds good to me!” a chuckle rose in the trombones, which was quickly quieted by a pointed glare from Ms. Fulton. “Sorry,” the offending interrupter coughed out, causing a quick round of giggles from the rest of the orchestra._

_“If you don’t practice, you will be, Adam. Especially since you’re in_ my _class this year._

_“Second ground rule,” Ms. Fulton turned a terrifyingly sweet smile back to the rest of the orchestra, “Don’t be disrespectful. I expect all of my musicians to be disciplined and to treat each rehearsal like a performance. You wouldn’t come late to your own performance, would you? Then don’t come late to my rehearsals. You wouldn’t be talking over a brilliant soprano solo, would you? Then don’t talk over me or anyone else, playing or speaking, in my rehearsals. Heard that, Adam?_

_“Now, that same respect should extend to instruments. If I catch anyone playing with an instrument that isn’t theirs—if a trombonist is using the drums, for example—I will instantly dismiss them, unless they have been given permission to try the instrument under supervision. In fact, I encourage learning new instruments; I just don’t want anyone goofing off with instruments, because that can damage them. Unless you have a few thousand dollars lying around, I suggest exercising extreme caution with the school’s instruments.”_

_Paige looked down at her school-lent flute, suddenly painfully aware of the way she was holding it, the way the keys bent underneath her fingers, stinging them with cold. Surely, metal couldn’t be that vulnerable?_

_“Hey,” Emily whispered cautiously, not taking her eyes off of the teacher’s continuing speech, “Don’t hold the keys, it’ll warp them. Hold it by the head-joint or just rest it on your lap.”_

_“Oh, um…” Paige stammered, quickly correcting her hold. She wondered if she should thank the girl, but decided against it; she didn’t want to be caught talking over Ms. Fulton, who was currently running through policy about interacting with other students. It wasn’t an unfamiliar spiel; be nice to each other, don’t bully, things that Paige knew the others would nod in agreement with but still never follow. She knew that walking out of class, whispers of ‘loner’ would follow her, just like ‘sissy’ or ‘loser’ would follow the lone guy in the violins or the kid who was too small to play her own cello. No matter where they went, some kids would always be picked on, always be too scrawny or too awkward or too much like themselves to fit in with the crowd._

_She didn’t know why, but her eyes gravitated to Emily. The girl’s frown had deepened, as if she was genuinely concerned by what Ms. Fulton was saying. Paige had to resist laughing at the thought of it; Emily was nice, but she was also pretty. She was also collected, and graceful, and extroverted. Seemed to know exactly what she was doing and why she was doing it. Paige couldn’t imagine any girl like that knowing what it was like to eat lunch alone. She couldn’t imagine any girl like that knowing the sting of ‘stupid,’ ‘ugly,’ or even—she swallowed—‘pigskin’.  Emily wasn’t like Paige._

_But that didn’t mean she was like other girls, either._

“All right, that about covers everything, unless—“ Ms. Fulton’s conclusion was cut off by a clatter from the back of the room, and everyone turned to see Lucas Gottesman, the orchestra’s lone double-bassist, making his way to the front of the room.

“Sorry, Ms. Fulton, but I just have to add—we had a few _incidents_ last year, and I would just like to say, the bass case’s size is _not_ an invitation.”

Paige giggled, her laughter increasing when she noticed the look of confusion on Emily’s face. Leaning towards her friend, she clarified, “Last year Lucas kept catching niners doing it in the bass case.”

“ _Seriously?_ ” Emily gave a disgusted shriek, and Paige couldn’t resist cackling, despite how embarrassing the sound of her own laughter was to her. She loved how innocent Emily could be, especially since it was her who usually seemed so cool and confident, so sure of everything.

“Hey, stop laughing! I mean it, guys, _no second base in the bass case!_ ” Lucas shouted back to the orchestra, which had taken up Paige’s raucous reaction, and Emily flashed him a sympathetic smile, very clearly trying not to join in.

“I can’t believe anyone would actually have sex in a _case_. And that probably means Lucas was nearby!”

Paige shrugged, suddenly feeling a bit winded by Emily’s words.

 _Have sex_. She’d said it so bluntly, like it was nothing. Out loud and to the world.

“Paige, you okay?” Emily waved a hand in front of Paige’s face, and Paige snapped back to attention, pushing her feelings aside.

“Yeah.” she noted sheepishly, turning away from Emily with embarrassment; as amused as her friend looked, Paige knew that Emily actually meant the question, and she didn’t want Emily to be concerned for her. It made her feel too… Well, Paige wasn’t actually sure _how_ she felt. It didn’t matter. The orchestra had begun to settle down, and it was time to focus.

Paige picked up her flute and prepared her embouchure.

Beside her, Emily readied her own.

“All right, let’s warm up with a C scale!”

Sucking in a deep breath, they waited for the cue, hanging on to Fulton’s every action.

 _Go_.

Exhaling, they began to play.


	2. Chapter 2

Emily rounded into the courtyard to find her friends already seated at their usual table, deep into an argument despite lunch only having started ten minutes before. Sliding into the space left for her between Paige and Hanna, she put down her lunch-tray and slouched onto her arm, knowing that there was no way she could catch up without explanation, but deciding to try anyway.

“What?” Spencer gave a harsh laugh, “You’re honestly going to tell me that a _trumpet_ is harder than a _French horn_?”

“Well, to be fair, there’s only three keys on a trumpet.” Hanna cut in thoughtfully, causing both Aria and Spencer to stop mid-argument and stare at her, their jaws slack.

“Hanna,” Aria’s voice was thick with disbelief, “There are only three keys on _both_ of them…”

As Hanna, the lone percussionist in the group, jumped to defend herself, Emily leaned over to mutter into Paige’s ear, “Are we debating the superiority of different brass instruments?”

Smirking, Paige shook her head. “What piece we should do for the winter concert. Aria thinks jazz arrangement of carols, Spencer’s going with the Messiah.”

“Hey!” Spencer reached over and banged on the table in front of the two, “Are you guys even _listening_?”

“Yeah,” Emily sighed, “Unfortunately.” Paige giggled, and Emily felt happiness swell into her chest; normally, it was Paige who told jokes, Paige who made goofy gestures and animated faces while others were speaking. Paige who could make everyone happy. It was nice—more than nice, _amazing_ —that for once, Emily could do that to her.

 _For_ her.

“Emily! Earth to Emily!” Spencer’s voice jerked Emily back into reality, her head spinning as she tried to figure out where she’d gone, how long she’d been absent, what she’d missed. Embarrassment was added to confusion as she realized Paige was watching, concern plain on her face.

“Sorry, what was that?” she inhaled deeply, steadying herself at last.

“I asked what your opinion was.” Spencer stared over at Emily, and she had to fight herself not to shrink under her friend’s eyes. It wasn’t that Spencer was angry; like Paige, she was showing concern—an interrogating, incessant concern that would pick until she found what was wrong.

Only nothing was wrong.

_Was it?_

“My opinion?” Emily repeated the question to give herself time to think, time to push any remaining feelings aside and grab hold of the conversation at hand, “Well, I think if we had a varied set-list, and maybe worked with the choir, we could perform instrumental jazz as well as short sections from the Messiah— _short_ sections.”  she glared right back at Spencer, knowing full well that she had a tendency to hear, ‘you win!’ when Emily was saying, ‘let’s compromise.’

“Hey, what about _my_ suggestion?” Hanna piped up again, looking slightly peeved.

“You didn’t make one…” Aria replied sheepishly.

Emily was so busy listening to her other friends, so busy relaxing under words that didn’t matter, that she hardly noticed Paige next to her, looking about distractedly, pumping her knees back and forth and back and forth frantically under the table.

 _Hardly_ noticed. Emily had known Paige for a much shorter time than the others, that was true, but she seemed to be much more in tune to her, always knowing what she was doing, how she was feeling. If Paige wasn’t the centre of Emily’s attention, she was in her periphery, and that was usually enough.

 _Thick as thieves_ , her mother said. _Two peas in a pod_. Emily hated both the expressions; she wasn’t any thief, Paige had _wanted_ to be her friend, and it wasn’t as if she was stuck in the relationship, bound by some membrane. Emily wasn’t taking advantage of Paige. She wasn’t, she wasn’t—

_But aren’t you?_

The thought came to her faster than she could prevent it. Swallowing hard, she cast a glance at Paige, who seemed to have checked out of the discussion. Well, she’d always been closer to Emily than she had to Hanna or the others.

_“Hey, are you eating with anyone at lunch?”_

_It was Paige who asked the question, quickly and almost breathlessly as the orchestra packed up their instruments, filed noisily out group by group. Emily closed the latches on her flute’s case, then looked up at Paige’s face, smiling at the nerves written over it. It was cute, that someone was nervous around her. Most people considered_ Emily _to be the cute one, to be the one you could just pick up and play with whenever you pleased. The fact that she might—finally—be intimidating was exciting._

_“My friends,” Emily straightened up, turning to point her chin over to where three other girls were lingering, staring curiously over at the scene developing between the two of them, muttering amongst themselves. Regret seared through Emily’s chest; she didn’t even have to look at the other girl to know how much more anxious she must be feeling, how in her head she was jumping to conclusions about ins and outs, groups and outliers. About Emily and herself._

_“Hey,” Emily couldn’t stand to look at Paige, so she looked at Paige’s hand as she grasped it in her, “How about you eat with us?”_

_Please say yes, please say yes, please say—_

_“Sure… I’d love to.”_

_Emily couldn’t help the squeal that escaped her lips, or chuckling along with Paige despite herself. Grasping Paige’s hand tighter, Emily led her over to where Aria, Hanna, and Spencer were waiting._

_“These are my friends,” she announced proudly, on such a roll now that she hardly noticed how forced Paige’s smile had become, “Hanna, Spencer, and Aria. We’ve all been in the same classes together since grade 3—good luck, I guess—and we went to the same music camps a while back.”_

_“Oh,” Paige nodded, “What do you guys play?”_

_“Cymbals, triangle… Anything that I don’t have to make notes on.” Emily held her breath as Hanna eyed  Paige up and down, the clock only speeding back up when Hanna finally smiled at Paige, and Emily knew that they had clicked._

_“Violin.” as Emily suspected, Aria’s reply was curt, but civil; Aria had always been a trusting person, and Emily knew that her small friend would judge Paige over time, rather than based on a single impression like Hanna._

_“Well,” Spencer laughed, brushing her collar in mock self-consciousness, “I don’t mean to brag, but I play the piano, French horn, euphonium, guitar, and I’ve recently been dabbling in—“ noticing the looks from her friends, Spencer coughed, her head hanging slightly as she corrected herself, “I signed up to play the French horn.”_

_“Well,” Emily sighed contentedly, hoping to mask her nerves as she let go of Paige’s hand and gestured sweepingly towards the others, “Guys, this is Paige, my stand-partner. She’s going to eat lunch with us.” The others raised their eyebrows, and Emily frowned, letting them know she was standing her ground—luckily, none of them verbally protested, instead nodding and smiling warmly at Paige. They left the choir room two by two, Hanna and Aria, Spencer and Paige, Emily bringing up the rear, wondering if she’d done the right thing. Was it just her, or were Paige’s steps stilted, just a little too careful? Was whatever Spencer was saying that interesting, or was Paige just too shy to contribute?_

_Why was Emily back here watching, when she could be helping her new friend out?_

“Um…” the conversation had died somewhat when Emily chimed in again, against her better instincts. She shrank against their expectant looks, not quite sure _why_ she’d even begun to speak. Catching sight of Paige’s encouraging smile, however, she wracked her brain for a moment before continuing, shakily, “How did it feel to be head today, Paige?”

“Oh, yeah!” “Congrats!” the other girls squealed, grins instantly spreading across their faces. Paige blushed.

“I mean, it was a stupid rehearsal, all we even did was scales and run—how many bars did we get through, Em?”

“Of _My One True Friend_? Well, the flutes just sat there, only the strings got to play. I lost count of how much, though.”

“Wow, thanks, Em.” Aria joked, and Paige stuck out her tongue; Emily laughed, and the natural balance of the girls’ friendship was restored.

“Anyway,” Paige continued, “The real fun starts when I get my solo after we decide what we’re actually doing for the concert. Or when Fulton asks me to play for my section, ‘cause I’m just so darn goo—Ow!” she rolled her eyes, rubbing her arm in mock hurt after Emily punched her playfully. “Careful, Em,” Paige retorted, grabbing an apple off the table and biting into it, “You don’t want to damage my fluting arm.”

“ _Flauting_.” The girls whipped around to see Jenna Marshall, another flautist in the orchestra, standing behind Paige, arms crossed tightly over her guiding-stick. Though she had been completely blind from birth, Jenna was a gifted musician, and _knew_ it. Emily straightened up, trying her best to block Paige with the width of her shoulders; Jenna and Paige had fought bitterly for the spot of head flautist last year, and Emily could sense that Jenna wasn’t quite over losing.

Or maybe, in her mind, the competition was still going on. _Playing is a privilege_ , a privilege that Paige understood—Emily had been there for almost every second of her friend’s incessant practicing, for every obsessed discussion about technique and Pahud’s interpretation of Faure. But it was also a privilege that Emily could feel Jenna itching to take away.

A privilege that Emily wouldn’t _let_ her take.

“What is it, Jenna?” she snapped. Ignoring a half-puzzled, half-grateful look from Paige, she demanded, “What do you want?”

“Nothing,” Jenna smiled, a drippy, smug grin that made it hard for Emily to resist violence, “I just wanted to make sure your _friend_ heard me when I corrected her pronunciation of her own instrument.”

“Hear _my_ correction,” Spencer growled before Emily had a chance to retaliate, a vicious smile creeping onto the brunette’s face as she spoke, “A _flute_ is her instrument, so Paige did pronounce, as you said, ‘her own instrument,’ correctly. A _flautist_ , on the other hand, is an entirely different noun. You see, a _flautist_ is a petty, entitled musician who needs to scram before I shove my entire French horn—“

“Save it, Hastings.” Jenna hissed before turning on her heels and walking briskly away from the girls.

“Geez.” Aria watched Jenna leave the courtyard before turning back to her friends, “Can you believe her?”

“Yeah.” each girl answered in unison. They stopped for a moment, realizing what had happened, before peals of laughter broke out around the table. One by one, each girl collected her things and got up from the table, Emily rising last and taking the time to linger. Somehow, some way, _something_ didn’t feel quite right. Turning to look behind herself, Emily’s heart froze, the origins of her gut instincts becoming instantly clear.

Behind her, staring right at her, was Jenna’s best friend, Alison DiLaurentis.


	3. Chapter 3

Paige burst into her room, throwing her schoolbag down beside her bed. She felt heavy and tired, and it was all she could do not to collapse onto the floor. Closing the door behind her, she sat at her desk, pumping her legs up and down nervously.

After school today, she and Emily had hung out in the music room for an hour, trying to practice their repertoire.

She and Emily had hung out in the music room plenty of times, but it was the first time they had been completely alone. The first time they’d been so close together, shoulders practically touching, Paige turned so that she had a view of Emily’s lips working, jaw pushing in and out as she slid up and down entire octaves with ease.

The first time Paige had to leave early because she was so distracted.

Paige tried to bite a nail, only to catch air in her teeth—they were already bitten down to the quick. Sighing, she slid the side of her finger into her mouth, biting down on hard knuckle and soft flesh, chewing as her mind raced.

Emily held a flute with such grace.

_Her posture completely erect, her hands placed lightly and softly on each key._

Emily looked beautiful when she was playing.

_Her eyes half-closed in concentration, hair cascading over her face._

Emily _was_ beautiful—

_STOP!_

Paige caught a look at herself in the mirror propped up nearby and swiped away the smile forming behind her red, marked-up finger.

Emily was her _friend_.

Emily was a _girl_.

Emily was—Well, there were a million reasons why whatever Paige was feeling, whatever thoughts were sneaking into her head, were downright wrong. Emily was too good for her, Emily was probably straight—the list went on and on. Sighing, Paige removed her hand from her mouth, sitting still for a moment. Despite how tired she was, Paige could feel energy buzzing through her legs, clawing at her lower torso, begging her to get up, run around, do _something_. Looking towards her bed, Paige realized exactly what that something was going to be. She could try to resist—that’s what her father would want, she knew—but was smart enough to learn from history; just like every time before, she sat for a few seconds, counting each one, trying not to even _look_ at her bed before launching up and practically leaping onto it, landing hard on her stomach. Quickly, frantically, trying to convince herself it wasn’t too late to stop but knowing it was, she wriggled a hand underneath herself and into her pants, working underneath the waistband of her underwear until she’d wedged her hand firmly in-between her legs. Exhaling, she began to work her fingers around her folds, gathering wetness from below and dragging it, slowly and teasingly, up to her clit before applying pressure to herself, her legs beginning to tremble as she worked faster and faster, harder and harder, alternating between jagged up-and-down motions and smooth, focused circles.

_“So… What should we do now?”_

_Paige was sitting with the other girls in Spencer’s barn, sprawled out and snuggled underneath a spare blanket. They had just finished painting each other’s nails, and the sharp smell of polish pervaded the entire space, mixing with the must of old, damp wood. She would have been content to stay like this forever, basking in the eleven-o’clock silence, but knew that the idea was unrealistic._

_You didn’t go to a sleepover just to sit together._

_It was Hanna who shifted first, forcing herself up on her elbow to answer Aria’s question, “Well, actually, there’s something I have to tell you guys.” pausing for effect, Hanna gave a sheepish grin as she finally blurted out, “I’m seeing someone!”_

_“What?”_

_“Awesome!”_

_“Who?”_

_“Caleb Rivers.” Hanna mused, leaning back with a dreamy expression._

_“Wow, that means… That everyone here is seeing someone.” Spencer grinned. Catching a look at Paige and Emily, however, her smile fell and she corrected herself, “Well, three of us.”_

_“Their time will come.” Hanna droned in a deep, sage voice. Emily rolled her eyes._

_“Can you believe them?” she joked to Paige, who laughed half-heartedly. She_ could _believe them. It was weird, that they were sixteen and had no boyfriends. Had_ never _had boyfriends. And there were people noticing, no doubt._

_Glancing back at the others, Paige exhaled, hoping she wasn’t giving off any signs. Surely, they were judging her, deep in their own heads. Surely, they knew what she was thinking._

_She looked back at Emily and smiled. What was it about Emily that made her so calm? Made her feel like everything would be okay?_

_She wished she could stop it, she really did—it would be trouble for Emily, eventually. People would start rumours, nasty things about those two single girls who were just a little too close. Things that were just a little too true, at least for Paige._

_Where would that leave Emily?_

_Where would that leave_ them _?_

_“Hey, Paige, do you like anyone right now?” the question came from Hanna, so why did Emily react to it?_

_“Guys, that’s probably pri—“_

_“No!” Paige jumped in, too filled with sudden adrenaline to feel remorse at cutting her best friend off, “It’s okay, Emily.” she tried to smile, not too hard, not too nicely, not too detached, knowing that she wasn’t achieving anything. “I… Um…”_

Shit.

Paige’s eyes snapped open, her mouth falling slack as her body stiffened, fingers steadying to help her ride out the throes of orgasm.

“F… Fuck.” she moaned, milking out the feeling as it coursed through her body, working her clit underneath her thumb as it faded, intensified, then faded again. Rolling over onto her back, she sighed heavily, playing with herself absent-mindedly as she let pleasure give way to self-loathing.

She’d done it again. She’d masturbated, trying to forget, and had only remembered more and more about Emily, more and more about a past that would lead to a future she couldn’t have.

“Stupid fucking _idiot_.” taking her hand out from between her legs, she got up, a little shakily, and walked into the bathroom adjacent to her room. She was home alone, meaning her father and mother couldn’t hear her noises, or catch the hateful way she looked at herself now. Couldn’t walk in on her snarling at the mirror.

“You’re _not_ ,” she told herself, “You’re _not_.”

_You are, you are._

She was so tired.

 

It was around six when Emily called. Paige’s father was at a budgetary meeting for their church, and her mother, the parish secretary, was attending with him, so she hadn’t bothered getting a real dinner together. She was halfway through an energy-bar, biting into chocolate and whey in-between theory exercises for music class, when Fauré’s _Sicilienne no. 3_ began to play softly, alerting Paige that someone was trying to contact her.

“Hello?” Paige got up, dug her cell out from the bottom of her bag, and answered the call.

“Paige,” Emily’s voice was breathless, as if she’d just come up from underwater, “Hey.”

“Hey, Emily.” Paige was too wrapped up in the moment to fight the smile that flashed instantly across her face, “What’s up?”

“Um… Ah, nothing. I didn’t interrupt dinner, did I?”

“Nah,” Paige sighed, “My parents are at church— _shocker_ , I know. I was just doing the theory homework.”

“Wait…” silence fell on the other end of the line. Then, finally, Emily responded with a shaking voice, “There was theory homework today?”

Paige laughed. “The chapter on primary chord progressions. It’s being checked tomorrow.”

Emily groaned, and Paige laughed again. “I’ll do it later.”

Paige nodded, a sudden pang of embarrassment hitting her in the chest when she realized that Emily couldn’t _see_ her. “Sure.”

“So, is it just me or was Jenna a total bitch to you today?” Emily’s voice sounded casual, but Paige knew her better than to believe that Emily hadn’t called to ask that exact question, to find out if she was even the least bit bothered. She was determined not to let her friend worry.

“At lunch?” she played coy.

“No,” Emily answered with irritation, knowing exactly what Paige was doing, “Not just at lunch. In math, when she _accidentally_ knocked your books of your desk and then just smiled and stood there listening to you pick them up. In the hall, when she was throwing her stick like I’ve never seen her do before, bringing it off the ground and then down again when she passed your locker. It was like she was beating out a warning.”

“Yeah, well,” Paige flopped back down on her bed, consciously keeping her hands above her waist, “If she’s trying to scare me, it’s not really working.”

“I just don’t see why she won’t let it _go_. It’s a pretty meaningless title, if you think about it.”

“ _Thanks_!” Paige rolled her eyes. “Look, Jenna is incredibly talented, and she works incredibly hard at music because she loves it so much. I mean, I get _why_ she wants to have the title. It looks good on a resume, and it feels pretty good to be able to refer to yourself with it. And to have some random loser who hasn’t even been playing for _half_ the time you have steal all that away from you is _pretty_ hard to get over, especially if you’re as used to winning as Jenna is.”

“I know you’re right, I just… It _bothers_ me. The idea of her trying to get at you—“

“Emily, relax.” Paige smiled, pleased at the fact that Emily was trying to protect her. “I doubt she’ll actually try anything. I mean, she can hate me all she wants; besides that, there’s nothing much else she can do to me.”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right.” Emily resigned, though Paige still detected notes of dissatisfaction in her voice.

“So… We good?”

“Yeah, we’re good.”

“Good,” Paige smiled, suppressing another laugh, “Because I have work to do. And so do you.”

“Aww, come on! Chords are so _boring_.”

“No buts!” Paige forced herself up and off the bed, “Go and get it done, then we can hang out when you’ve finished. Well,” she corrected herself, “I’ve also got a bio report to write, but I’m sure that can be done later.”

“Hypocrite.” Emily teased, giggling a little. “Fine, I’ll call you later. Maybe I could bring over a movie or something.”

“Yeah…” Paige tried her best to ignore the swelling in her chest, “Yeah, I’d really like that.”

“Me too.”

Was it just Paige, or did Emily sound a little _too_ happy?

“Okay, so it’s a—“ Paige stopped, her elation freezing and collapsing in the face of terror at what she was about to say. “I’ve got to go. Bye!”


	4. Chapter 4

“Um, okay… Bye.” Emily hung up the phone, feeling suddenly overwhelmed by sadness. She’d wanted to talk with Paige, wanted to laugh with her, wanted to hear her voice. Of course that didn’t mean the same thing to Paige as it did to her.

So why had she pushed it with that damn movie?

“Idiot.” she growled to herself through gritted teeth.  Why was she torturing herself like this? What did Paige even have, that boys didn’t?

She had to deliberately stop the list that ran off in her head. Paige was kind, she was beautiful, she was hardworking—

_Face the facts, Em._

Paige was a _girl_. Didn’t that make it wrong?

“Emily! Dinner in five!” Emily jumped at her mother’s voice, her heart pounding in her ears. Sighing, she yelled out an affirmation to her mother and closed her bedroom door, pressing her body up against the wood’s cool surface.

Dinner in five. The request wasn’t offensive, so why was Emily shaking? Why did ‘five minutes’ feel like a countdown to her death?

_“I’ve got to go. My parents just got home, and they want to have dinner.” Paige’s voice changed from her usual relaxed, goofy drawl to a sharp, quiet mutter._

_“That’s good, isn’t it? They’re hardly ever home for dinner any more.” Emily frowned against the heat of her cell phone, her body limp from the fatigue of hours listening to Paige practice, talk, then practice again. It wasn’t that Emily minded; she liked being able to mentor Paige, feeling like she was helping her, somehow. It made her feel useful. At the same time, she wished she could talk to her friend for more solid amounts of time, listen to her low, yet still saccharine voice without the interruption of a tone-exercise—they were bothersome enough when she had to play them herself, but listening to Paige do them, when she could be hearing her opinion on a number of other things?_

_Guilt immediately crept into her body, tugging at her chest. She would be there as long as Paige needed her, for whatever Paige needed her for._

_That’s what love meant, right?_

_“I like it better when they’re gone.” Emily could hear rustling on the other line, and guessed that Paige was putting away her instrument. “When they’re home, I always feel on-edge. ‘What are you doing, Paige?’ ‘How’s orchestra, Paige?’ ‘Are you practicing or wasting time with that Emily, Paige?’—It feels like an interrogation, you know?”_

_“Yeah,” the words were out before Emily had a chance to think about them, think them away, “I do. But still… They’re my parents, right? They care about me. They want to know what’s going on with me—but that doesn’t mean that they always will. I can tell them enough that their mind’s at ease; I don’t always have to tell them everything, right?”_

_“Aren’t you always saying, ‘Honesty’s the best policy’?” Paige’s voice was half-mocking, but Emily knew that there was concern, maybe even annoyance, behind the question._

_“It is.” she winced at her own reply, fearing that with every word, she was digging her own grave faster and faster, deeper and deeper._

_“Then why did you just tell me to lie to them?” an edge rose into Paige’s voice, revealing the irritation that Emily had already known to be there._

_“I didn’t!” Emily snapped, immediately regretting it. Softening, she added, “It’s just, sometimes there are things better left unsaid. You’re not lying; you’re going to tell them… Just not now.”_

When would that be? And who would she tell?

_Stop it stop it stop it!_

There was nothing to say, as far as she was concerned. Paige was her friend, the orchestra was going great, Emily was fine.

When had ‘telling them later’ become ‘lying to them forever’?

Pushing any thoughts out of her mind, Emily opened her door and went downstairs for dinner.

 

“All right, guys! Guys!” Emily straightened up, conversations all around her ceasing as the class turned their attention to their music teacher, Mr. Fitz, who was entering the room behind a huge stack of new sheet-music.

It had been two weeks since Emily’s movie night with Paige; they’d watched _Attack of the Killer Tomatoes_ —Paige’s inexplicably favourite film—sitting next to each other on Emily’s couch, Emily trying her best to keep her eyes on the screen, to watch the action unfolding rather than Paige’s reactions to it. She hadn’t done a very good job; displaying next to no restraint, she watched Paige almost the entire night, only looking at the TV if Paige glanced her way. Thinking about it now, an uneasy guilt spread through her abdomen, churning her stomach. She’d taken advantage of Paige; she’d never _really_ intended to hang out, only to have Paige close to her, to clutch her arm during the ‘scary’ parts and see her smile at the movie’s unabashed awfulness. And Paige still hadn’t caught on; why else would she grab Emily’s hand, smile so comfortably and so warmly?

Why would she inch just a little closer every time she thought Emily wasn’t looking?

“Emily?”

“Here!” Emily snapped out of her daze, jumping a little in her chair as she responded just in time to Fitz’s roll-call. Behind her, a couple of her class-mates tittered, only to be met with a steely glare from Paige. Emily smiled back at her friend gratefully, comforted in the fact that they’d both do anything to defend each other.

 _“Yeah, that’s right, fuck off!” Emily couldn’t see Paige, but she could hear her screaming, could fill in the image of the muscular girl standing above her_ , _shielding her from harm. “You okay?” she winced as Paige’s hand came down onto her face, wiping away hot tears._

_“Yeah.” she lied, unable to even attempt forcing a smile._

_“Oh, Emily…” Paige searched Emily’s face for a moment before grabbing her by the shoulders and wrapping her in a strong, tight hug, “Don’t listen to them, okay? They’re just bitter because you’re out of their league and they know it.”_

_“Out of… Out of their league.” Emily repeated, unable to keep from sobbing. Insults still rang in her ears, cutting at her heart._

_Dyke._

_Bulldagger._

_How come we’ve never seen you with a boy, huh?_

_What are you?_

_She didn’t know how to answer them. So she’d sunk to the floor and cried._

_“Emily, listen.” Paige pulled away from the hug, hands still resting firmly on Emily’s shoulders as she continued, “If anyone_ ever _bothers you again, you tell me, okay? I’ll always protect you. I mean it.”_

_Emily nodded, unable to speak. She hated looking like this, hated herself for letting it get to this point. Hated being vulnerable to Paige._

_Hated the idea of Paige hearing those rumours, of thinking they might be true._

_Of finding out that they were._

_It wasn’t that Paige would desert her; it’s that they were close, maybe too close. If she let herself be like_ that _, it would no doubt affect Paige, too. And Emily couldn’t stand the thought of hurting her._

_It was in that moment that she decided to protect Paige at all costs, no matter what it meant hiding._

_“Okay?”_

“Okay!” Mr. Fitz clapped his hands together, looking with satisfaction at the stacks of music in front of him. “Today, we’re going to be watching the first part of a documentary on the Viennese school, but first, I’m going to distribute some music. It’s going to be for the concert, so all of you practice it like your life depends on it… Your performances _will_ be marked.”

Emily giggled as a chorus of groans went up around each section—save Hanna and Noel, who high-fived at having only very minimal work to do—as Mr. Fitz passed around several copies of the Overture from the Nutcracker Suite. Her mood ran cold, however, when she turned around to catch Alison’s eyes. The blonde wasn’t just staring _at_ her, but _through_ her. Yet before she could force the breath back into her body, Alison gave a small smirk, just big enough to make Emily’s heart stop dead in its tracks. What did Alison see in her? She _couldn’t_ know anything. She _didn’t_ , because there wasn’t anything to know.

Was there?

“Emily!” time began again, and Emily was jerked back to life for the second time that morning, blood rushing to her head all at once as she turned quickly to answer Mr. Fitz’s call. “All right, now that I have everyone’s attention, I’ll put in the—“ he frowned, pausing to root through the extra copies and assorted mess left on his desk. “That’s odd. I must have left it in the music office. Okay,” he addressed the class, “I’ll be right back!”

“You okay?” the squeaking of Mr. Fitz’s shoes on the school floors could still be clearly heard when Paige turned to Emily, half-questioning and half-concerned, “You seem really out of it today.”

“No, I’m just tired.” she lied in response. She’d felt out of it for more than just a morning, perhaps even more than these two weeks that stretched between her and the questions that lurked in her mind, but it was comforting to know that even Paige hadn’t been able to tell up until now. “There’s a solo in this for you!” she changed the subject, smiling. Paige blushed, flipping through her music to find the passage in question.

“So there is. Looks kind of difficult.”

“Don’t worry,” Emily’s heart swelled, “I know you can do it.”

“Well…” Paige’s blush deepened, a faint smile appearing, then suddenly snapping off her face, “I might need your help.”

Emily looked at her friend speechlessly, profoundly confused. They weren’t in the tenth grade anymore; Paige’s abilities had far surpassed her own by now. She didn’t _need_ Emily’s help, and probably knew it. So why the sudden insecurity?

“Oh,” Paige tapped Emily’s arm, gesturing behind them, “Looks like Jenna’s at it again.”

She didn’t want to look, but she had to; otherwise, it would look suspicious. Wincing, she followed Paige’s gaze to where Alison and Jenna were having an intent conversation.

Only this time, Alison wasn’t looking at Emily.

She was looking straight at Paige.


	5. Chapter 5

Paige wasn’t sure what she said or how she said it, how she guided herself out of the classroom and what direction she took, how she did all that while still managing to breathe. She only knew that one moment, she was caught in class, and the next, she was outside and free.

Finding a tree to lean against, Paige heaved an unsteady exhalation, fighting back tears. Back in the classroom, seeing Alison staring at her like that… She _knew_. Alison always knew; there was no other reason she’d ever so much as think of Paige, let alone _look_ at her.

Sinking further up against the tree’s trunk, Paige tried not to think of what would happen next.

_“Can you believe this?”_

_Paige looked up to see her father enter the room, red with anger._

_“Believe what, dad?”_

_“Paige.” her mother warned behind her, grimacing as she played uncomfortably with the spoon in her coffee._

_“It’s all right, Margaret. She has a right to know.”_

_“Know_ what _?”_

_“I just got off the phone with your uncle.” he put a hand to his head, covering his eyes. “Your cousin Justin refuses to cut out this whole ‘gay’ act.”_

_Paige felt like she’d been dealt a swift kick to the stomach._

_“So what did you advise them?” Paige whipped around to glare at her mother for shattering the fragility of questions left unasked, difficult decisions left unmade. Had her mother known who her father was talking to? Did she already know the answer to her own question?_

_“Well, I didn’t want to say it, but I had to. The home—“ Nick stopped, cut off by Paige scraping back her chair as loudly as possible, standing up before she really knew what she was doing. “Paige?”_

_“I have to go.” she blurted out quickly, “I have… um… A bio project.”_

_She didn’t stay in the room to hear her father stating, quite obviously, that she was lying. She didn’t try to eavesdrop as her parents puzzled over what was wrong, concluded she was too young for this kind of obscenity, and turned back to their gospel gossip; she’d heard it all before._

_The home is a place of sanctity. Of holiness. If a man can’t maintain a good home, he cannot maintain a good relationship with God—how he controls his home reflects on how he controls his life. To make the home a place of sin not only endangers him, it endangers the entire family, the entire family_ structure _. He couldn’t let that happen!_

_Paige couldn’t let that happen._

_There was nothing to hide, she wasn’t like that._

_A call came through, ringing loud to cut through the whirlwind of Paige’s mind. Checking the caller ID, her breath caught in her throat when she saw the name, clear and harsh over backlit pixels._

_EMILY FIELDS._

_She wasn’t, she wasn’t, she wasn’t—_

_“Hey!” she flipped open the phone, sounding much more cheerful than she felt._

_She was._

She was. And now Alison knew.

“You okay, pigskin?”

Paige winced at the invocation of her old elementary-school nickname. Well, nickname might not have been the best word—Paige had never looked back on elementary school fondly. She didn’t have to turn around to recognize the voice, but faced Alison anyway.

“What do you want?” she snapped, unwilling to let on how upset she was.

“Me?” Alison batted her eyelashes. She was stepping towards to Paige, slowly and dangerously, fully knowing that with every inch of distance she closed, Paige would be more drawn in, even less able to step away. “I don’t want anything, darling. I just noticed you’d been gone for an awfully long time, and I

went to check on you. Fitz might’ve sent Emily, but… I don’t think you’d want her to see you like this, would you? So I volunteered.” she was close now, so close that Paige could feel the breath behind Alison’s too-steady voice, hot and sharp on her neck.

“Fuck off, Alison.” Paige growled, her hands curling into fists. Alison smiled, but jumped back in mock surprise, and Paige knew she’d made the wrong move.

“Oh, dear. Testy, aren’t we? I bet your father would be real ashamed to hear you aren’t just turning the other cheek.” cocking her head, Alison smiled sweetly and asked, “He’s still a deacon at your church, isn’t he?”

“Look,” Paige forced each word, hardly breathing, “I know you know, okay? So just tell me what—“

“ _Know?”_ Alison’s eyes widened in amusement, “What do I know, honey?”

“That I’m—“ Paige clapped a hand over her mouth, freezing mid-explosion.

“Gay. So you admit it.” Alison stared into Paige’s eyes, her lips quivering between triumph and disgust as she stepped forward, more threateningly this time, “And soon everyone’s gonna know you did.”

“Please,” Paige didn’t want to change tactics; she didn’t want to beg Alison, didn’t want to feel the sting of tears in her eyes, but found she wasn’t strong enough to control her reaction. “I’ll do anything you want, just…”

“Oh, sweetie,” Alison’s voice became saccharine, her eyes glazing over with an unreadably calculating expression, “I know you will. So you’re going to drop out of orchestra. And tell Mr. Fitz that you’re _so_ busy in all your classes that any solos he wants to give you on behalf of the senior wind class, you just can’t handle. But you’ll definitely recommend Jenna, and you’re gonna smile while you do it.”

“Is that it?” screwing up what was left of her courage, Paige bit out a sarcastic retort.

“Oh, yeah. You breathe a word of this to Emily, you can explain to her and everyone else why you want to taste her cherry chapstick. Got that, pigskin?”

 _Don’t make deals with the devil._ Paige almost laughed as her father’s voice drifted from the pulpit down into her mind. Clearly, those rules needed not always apply.

“Fine.”


	6. Chapter 6

It wasn’t unusual for Emily to arrive at orchestra first. She greeted Hanna and the others, unpacked her instrument, and began to warm up without thinking twice about where Paige might be, figuring her friend was off somewhere, running a little late.

“All right!” Emily swallowed hard as Fulton addressed the Paige-less orchestra, turning her steely eyes over to the flute section, “Before we get started, I do have an announcement to make. It has come to my attention that our head flautist, Paige McCullers, can no longer be part of orchestra due to workload concerns. While this pains me, I must stress that Paige did the right thing by coming to me privately and putting her academics first; you can get into a school with a great audition, but you can’t get in without good grades.”

A small murmur went up around the flutes. Emily didn’t bother trying to hear snippets of the conversation; she was too busy trying to steady her own stomach. She didn’t dare look up; she didn’t want to catch the concerned glances of her friends.

“In her stead, Paige recommended a new head-of-section… Jenna Marshall.”

Bile rose in Emily’s throat. She wasn’t surprised; no, she had far too little faith in Alison and Jenna to doubt for even a second that they’d been behind Paige’s dropping out. But that didn’t mean that she didn’t want to believe it wasn’t true. Her head spinning, Emily cast a cautious glance behind her, a flash of indignation coursing through her. Jenna was in her seat, smiling like she’d won a high honour fair and square; but it wasn’t Jenna Emily was interested in.

It was her that looked at Alison this time, with all the hatred she could muster. And this time, she didn’t care that Alison stared back.

 

Emily was alone in English—Paige was supposed to have biology—and usually liked Ms. Montgomery’s lectures, but that day, she found she couldn’t focus; time passed slowly, each second taunting her as it withheld her from music. From clarifying this whole mess.

Had she caused it? Had Alison used her… being the way she was, as a form of ammunition against Paige?

 _But… That means Paige knows._ Emily’s heart caught in her throat. Sighing, she looked up at the clock for the fifth time in fifteen minutes, her legs shaking up and down as she wished Paige closer, wished the truth farther away.

 _“We could watch_ But I’m a Cheerleader _.” Aria waved the DVD in front of the other girls from her place stretched out on the floor. It was the end of the summer, and Aria had invited them all over for a sleepover; they’d passed most of the night talking, laughing at their own jokes while various classical performers waxed poetic in the background, but now, growing tired, they’d decided to settle down and watch a movie._

_Taking the DVD from Aria, Paige turned the box over in her hands several times, squinting as she inspected it. “What’s it about?”_

_“I’m not sure.” Aria admitted before asking, “What’s on the back?”_

_Taking the box from Paige, Spencer began to read the description. Barely breathing, Emily watched the other girls’ faces carefully, making sure they couldn’t see the sweat forming on her brow, hear her heart as it hammered faster and faster against her ribcage. She didn’t even know why it was such a matter of worry—she wasn’t like that girl on the DVD cover._

_She’d never been_ caught _._

_Had she? Catching sight of Paige, her hopes of passing evaporated. The other girl was staring straight at her, lips pursed into a thin, angry line and brows knit disapprovingly. Emily felt a shiver rising through her spine—it made absolute sense that Paige would hate lesbians. Her father wasn’t exactly a poster-child for acceptance, and to hear Paige tell it, she’d spent every evening every day in Rosewood’s lone Catholic church, praying that she’d grow up happy, healthy, and, Emily guessed, heterosexual. Emily had never been a religious sort—she had vague Catholic connections somewhere, but her family had left them in another country, another generation—but she could see why someone would want to walk A Good Path._

_But where would that leave her?_

_“Sound good?” Spencer looked up. Emily watched Hanna and Aria nod out their apathy—those two would watch anything, so long as it ended in a flood of kisses—while Paige’s already fearsome scowl deepened._

_“Not so good, Paige?” Spencer smiled faintly, much to Emily’s irritation. Was something funny about homophobia? Or was Spencer smiling in approval, her lips acknowledging what her words wouldn’t say? Emily could feel her cheeks growing hotter, her lips wavering as it became harder to maintain a neutral expression. Closing her eyes, she breathed deeply, trying her best to zone out of whatever Paige would say next._

_“No.” Emily’s eyes snapped open at the word, a rock that dropped into her stomach and broke her concentration._

_“I’m not okay with it.” Paige continued, “Why would we watch a movie like that? Four girls, watching a movie about lesbians? A comedy, no less? And RuPaul Charles is totally gross.”_

_“Well, I think he’s actually kind of cool.” Aria interrupted meekly._

_Paige shot her an unreadable look before continuing, “It’s not right, guys. Adam and Eve, right? I mean, watching that movie… Seeing that girl kiss someone else…” she trailed off, looking away. Emily frowned in confusion—was it just her, or did Paige seem sad?_

_She wanted to comfort Paige. Wanted to be comforted_ by _Paige._

_But Paige was right; that would be wrong._

_“Okay, so—“ Spencer began, but was cut off by a rather angry Hanna._

_“No, it’s not okay.” Hanna rolled her eyes, “Paige, grow up. Think whatever you want about gay people, but seriously? Not letting us watch a movie? What’s the worst that could happen?”_

_“Oh, that’s easy for you to say, Hanna!” Paige snapped. Silence fell as the others waited for her to follow through, but Emily knew Paige better, knew the long, wide-eyed face that meant Paige had said something she shouldn’t have._

_“Paige…” she spoke up, cringing at how her voice cracked, “What do you mean?”_

_“Hanna doesn’t have any problem with it. But it makes me… It makes me…” Paige looked up pleadingly, causing Emily to melt. “Look, can we please just watch something else?”_

Emily was out of the room before the bell had even stopped ringing, rocketing down the hall with her mind going faster than her legs. Rounding the corner into the music room, she stopped dead in her tracks, looking everywhere but seeing nothing.

Paige was nowhere to be found.

“Emily…” Emily jumped at the feeling of hands on her shoulders, a gentle voice breathing against her neck. Turning around, she saw that her mysterious attacker was Hanna, looking concerned.

“Was Paige in biology with you?” Emily tried her best to make her voice sound neutral.

“No.” Hanna shook her head, “I texted her, but she didn’t reply.”

“She didn’t reply to mine either.” Emily let Hanna guide her inside the classroom and to her seat. The English and music rooms were in the same hallway, but when Emily felt down, there was such a relief in her legs that she felt she must have been walking for days.

“Look, whatever reason she had… She’s going to have to show up to class eventually. Aria asked Ms. Fulton while you were bee-lining out of orchestra this morning; Paige didn’t drop music, only orchestra. She’s going to do private supplementals for her performance mark. So if she’s not in class today, that won’t matter. She can’t avoid us forever, right?”

Emily wasn’t so sure.

 

Music faded into lunch, Hanna corralling Emily out into the courtyard to meet the other girls. It was late October now, and Rosewood had become nippy and cold, a thin layer of frost dusting over every brown leaf that fell onto the ground. Not many students were willing to sit on the cold metal benches of the school’s outdoor lunch area; normally, Emily and her friends would have moved inside, too. But today was different; showing up in padded jackets, they’d all reached the silent consensus that they needed to be alone today.

“So… Paige wasn’t in music?” Spencer was the first to speak, her eyes downcast and voice reproachful in a way that was unusual for her. Normally, Emily would have thought the caution with which Spencer was approaching the situation to be refreshing; not today. Not like this.

“No,” Hanna sighed, “And she wasn’t in bio, either.”

“This just isn’t like her.” Spencer continued, “She _loves_ music; two weeks ago she would’ve sooner died than give up playing the flute.”

“Yeah, well, sometimes things change.” Emily winced at Aria’s words. She hadn’t been able to look any of the girls in the eye, afraid of what she might confess if she did; now, though, she felt a compulsion to come clean with everything she knew, to defend Paige’s passion and commitment even if it meant outing herself as Paige’s downfall.

Then again, did it really matter what the others thought of her? Looking up, she glanced at each of the girls as they argued, circling around the conclusion that something wasn’t right. Emily did love each of them; she would trust them with her life. Still, something nagged at her inside, and she knew that Paige was different—Paige was worth even more than that.

“Guys,” she coughed, an expectant hush falling over the others, “I know why Paige quit, okay?”


	7. Chapter 7

Paige flopped onto her back and removed her hand from between her legs, sighing as nausea moved into the place of pleasure.

Why did she always try to forget, when it only made her remember more?

Closing her eyes, she rolled over in bed, curling up under the covers. She didn’t care that her mother, home to watch over her ‘sick’ daughter, was probably lurking outside the door, listening for the hitching in Paige’s breath. It didn’t matter to Paige anymore; everything else she cared about had already been taken from her. It was only a matter of time before Alison let her secret slip, and Paige would lose her parents, too.

The first thing she saw, upon opening her eyes again, was her phone. All through the morning, it had been ringing, texts popping up and demanding her attention; Paige didn’t have the heart to answer them.

_You breathe a word of this to Emily, you can explain to her and everyone else why you want to taste her cherry chapstick._

How could she explain any of this? What lie could possibly cover her actions? How long could she even keep it going? She couldn’t avoid Emily forever.

Frowning, she replayed the thought in her mind, heartbeat gaining a little speed. She _couldn’t_ avoid Emily—if she did, that would mean the end of the friendship.

But if she told Emily she liked her—

Paige stopped, holding her breath, then smiled.

She liked Emily.

She’d just admitted that she _liked_ Emily. Smiling wider, she repeated the fact in her mind, mouthing out the words, getting the feel of the admission on her tongue.

She liked Emily. And no matter what Alison said or what her parents did, nothing was going to change that.

Pushing herself up, she slid out of her bed, barely feeling the cold hardwood beneath her feet. It was halfway through third period by now; if she hurried, she could make it to school and make things right.

“Paigie?” Paige started at her mother’s disembodied voice floating into her room from around the hall, “Is that you? Are you up?”

“Um….” Breathing deeply, Paige steeled herself for her answer, “Yeah. I’m feeling a little better; I think I’m going to go to school.”

“That’s great, honey! Get dressed, rest a bit more; I’ll make you some soup; you can go after you’ve eaten.”

Paige listened intently for the sounds of her mother hurrying downstairs, rustling around the kitchen as she took out different cans and jars. Her mother had, of late, become obsessed with home-making everything, so Paige knew that it would be at least another half-hour before she left the house. Half an hour to skirt around her mother, knowing what she was about to do. Getting out of bed, Paige walked over to the closet, trying her best not to catch herself in her bedroom mirror as she went.

She was about to blow the top off her life. Once she told Emily, what would happen? She’d definitely lose her friends, she’d become a loser at school…

“Paige, do you want chicken or beef?” Paige’s stomach dropped when she heard her mother’s question.

Of course, she’d lose her parents, too. If she went through with this, Alison would know, and she had no doubt that her father would know within the hour.

_The home is a place of sanctity…_

No.

Steeling herself, Paige dropped the clothes she’d absent-mindedly collected from her closet onto her bed, redirecting herself towards her door and propelling herself—half-consciously, half in a sudden, bravado-driven daze—into the hallway, hesitating only when she reached the stairs.

It was now or on Alison’s time.

Taking a deep breath, Paige walked downstairs.  


	8. Chapter 8

Fourth period had barely begun when Emily received the text.

_On my way. Meet me in music room after school. Will explain everything._

Checking to make sure her history teacher hadn’t caught her with her phone under her desk, Emily penned back a simple ‘K’ before closing the device and sliding it back into her pocket. Looking around herself, she saw Hanna, Aria, and Spencer repeating the motion—they all must have received the same text. Emily’s smiled uncomfortably as Hanna noticed her gaze, leaning over to squeeze her hand.

It might have been an hour and a half since she’d first told the girls, since she’d finally said the words _I’m gay_ out loud, but Emily’s heart was still pounding as if she’d only just done it. She wasn’t sure if she’d done the right thing, if she’d been entirely ready, but thinking about it now, she realized that she was proud of herself. And she knew that her friends were proud of her, too.

If only Paige felt the same way. Emily wasn’t sure what Paige was going to say, was going to _do_ to her, but she couldn’t shake the sense of foreboding that rode on the back of her anticipation as the minutes dragged on, bogged down by talks of insignificant details and tactical decisions.

After school, Paige would explain everything. After school, Emily would finally get to explain herself. Past those lines of thought, everything was murky.

“Miss Fields, are you paying attention?”

“Yes,” she snapped back into the present, conscious of her friends’ worried looks as she responded, “I am.”

 

As it turns out, she wasn’t. The rest of history passed in the blink of an eye, and Emily was ashamed—though not surprised—to admit that she couldn’t remember any of it. Not that it mattered, really; history was only an elective, not an aspiration for her, and the situation at hand was far more important. So when the bell rang, Emily was out of her seat like a rocket, practically running down the hall until Spencer grabbed her by the arm, jerking her to a stop.

“Whoa, slow down.” Emily snorted at Spencer’s cautious gestures, and Spencer rolled her eyes. “Okay, I get it, I may not be the best to tell you that, but seriously. Are you sure you just want to barge in here? If it’s true what you say, Paige will need to be talked to calmly. I mean, you don’t want to freak her—“ clapping a hand over her mouth, Spencer’s eyes widened as she stammered, “Em—I didn’t mean—I wasn’t—“

“I know what you meant.” it was Emily’s turn to roll her eyes. “And you’re right,” seeing the smile flicker across her friend’s face, Emily chuckled before continuing, “I shouldn’t be just charging in. I have to approach this sensitively if I’m going to change her mind.”

“Well, I mean… I want this to happen. I want you two to go back to being the friends you were before.”

Emily laughed again, harsher this time, louder. “That’s not going to happen. We’re not just going to go back like nothing’s happened. She knows how I feel about her now; she knows I love her. And if she can’t deal with that, no matter what I say is going to put us in the same space as before. Even if she tries to get past… _this_ … You can’t ignore it. Even if it doesn’t change for the worse, it’s _going_ to change.”

“Okay then,” Spencer nodded encouragingly, letting her arm fall from Emily’s, “Go get ‘em.”

“Wait—“ Emily frowned, “You’re not coming with me?”

“Oh, no,” Hanna walked up behind Spencer, Aria in tow, “We’re all coming with you. But it’s you and Paige that are going to do the talking.” pausing, she added, “You sure you’re ready?”

“Yeah,” she sighed, “I’m sure.”

“Okay, then,” Aria smiled widely, grabbing Emily’s hand and pulling her back into motion, “Let’s get going."


	9. Chapter 9

Glancing down at her phone, Paige frowned. _3:07_. Realistically, she still had plenty of time-- School got out at 3:05, but Emily would probably take a few minutes to get to the music room, would probably visit her locker, chat with some friends; she probably wouldn’t meet with Paige until 3:15. Besides, Paige could _see_ the music room from where she was now, getting closer and closer with every second that ticked by on the screen. She wasn’t going to be late.

But she didn’t want to be just on time, either. She didn’t know if she could handle that, having no time to breathe or think about what she was going to say. No time to prepare herself for what Emily would say back.

Her mother hadn’t reacted as badly as Paige thought she would. Saying those words out loud, finally admitting how she felt, was both nerve-wracking and freeing, the simultaneous feelings of being pushed to her death and lifted from the abyss. And Paige think her mom understood that—where Paige had expected twisted cries of disgust, there had been a long silence, and then, tears.

_I won’t tell your dad._

Had her mother been crying because of her, or for her?

Before she could even think about those possibilities, she felt a blow to her side, jerking her back into reality.

“God, I’m so sorry!” she shouted, embarrassed, to the person she’d barrelled into.

“Paige?”

Paige’s blood froze as she realized that the person she was holding on to, the person she was helping up after knocking down, was Jenna Marshall.

“You’re back soon.” Jenna smirked, “I figured you’d stay low for a while, considering how much you still have to lose.”

“Careful, Jenna,” Paige tightened her grip on Jenna’s arm, leaning closer to her ear, “I have less than you realize.”

“Really? Why don’t you tell that to your parents?” it enraged Paige to see how calm Jenna was, and it was all she could do not to lash out and smack the smug smile off Jenna’s face. ut that wouldn’t do any good. Smiling, she assumed the calm, menacing demeanor she’d seen Alison use against others so many times.

“Oh, I already have. And I’m on my way to tell Emily, too.” Jenna was faltering now, skin reddening under the cutting of Paige’s nails.

“Let me go, Paige.”

Paige obliged, resuming her path towards more important things.

 

Her detour had, unfortunately, taken more time than she could afford. When she arrived in the music room, fighting her way against a sea of band-class stragglers with woodwinds slapping against her thighs as she swam past, Emily and the others were already waiting, sitting in the back and watching Lucas set up his double-bass.

“Hey, Luke,” Paige bounced over to him, trying to strike a balance between assertion and casualty, but only managing a nervous plea, “Would you mind taking that outside? I kinda need to clear some things up here…”

“You have no power here anymore, Paige.” Lucas didn’t even spare Paige a passing glance, focusing on the resin he was applying—deliberately slowly, deliberately showily, she thought—to his bow.

“Come on, five minutes!” she pleaded, “It’s really important.”

“So is music.” He sneered, carefully placing his down in the bass case he’d left strewn on the floor.

“Oh my god, Lucas!” both Paige and Lucas looked to the corner of the room, where Hanna was watching, frowning deeply. “Give her some space. Are you that butthurt about her leaving, when you never had a chance with her anyway? Or do you really think your damn bass part is gonna suck that much if you don’t practice for _five minutes_? Because I guarantee, it _will_ if you don’t get out of here right now.”

“What’s that supposed to—“

“It means get out or I’ll snap your bow like the twig it is!” Hanna spat, only calming when Lucas, unwilling to risk the rage of a woman scorned, scampered out of the room, bass and bow in tow.

“You’re scary when you’re mad.” Spencer smiled admiringly, and Hanna laughed.

“Well, I’m not mad now.” turning her attention to Paige, she softened before continuing, “Hey, why don’t you sit with us? We want to hear you out, but let’s do it calmly, okay?”

“Yeah…” Paige frowned, but obliged her friends and sat down in the only available space, next to Emily, who instantly opened her mouth to speak.

“Before you say anything…” Paige’s heart sank as she listened to Emily, realizing that her friend couldn’t look her in the eye.

“Emily, I didn’t want this… I—“ Emily raised her hand to stop Paige mid-apology.

“No, I have to apologize for not telling you sooner.”

“Tell me what?” it was Emily’s turn to frown, confusion spreading over her face.

“Alison didn’t…?”

“Didn’t Alison...?”

“Um… Am I the only one confused, here?” Aria stopped their train of thought with a frustrated groan.

“No, trust me, you’re not.” Hanna sighed, raising her eyebrows.

“Okay, seriously, you’re _not_ helping.” Emily snapped, and Paige couldn’t hold it any longer. She began to laugh, loud and forceful and longer than she had in a while. She loved seeing them all like this, back to how it was even two days ago, back to how she wanted things to stay. The thought that they could do this again, laugh like this, talk like this, gave her the strength she needed. Grabbing Emily’s hand, she gazed around her friends, smiling nervously before taking a long, deep breath.

“Guys…”

_Don’t do it don’t do it don’t—_

“I’m gay.”


	10. Chapter 10

“Wait, what?” Emily didn’t mean to shout the question, and guilt immediately replaced her shock when she noticed Paige’s crumpling expression.

“I’m… I’m gay,” Paige repeated, less sure of herself this time. “Alison and Jenna found out and swore they’d tell everyone unless I dropped out of orchestra. Only I decided if I was going to lose everything anyway, I should do it _my_ way.”

So that was it.

Alison and Jenna hadn’t known about her, or at least hadn’t been using Emily as a threat.

Had they?

“Paige…” she moved to grab Paige’s hand, hesitating—knowing now, would this change their relationship at all? She was encouraged, though, when Paige grabbed back, their fingers tightly intertwining. “I was so afraid…” she was overcome by giggles then, bouncing laughter that the others quickly caught onto. When the noise had died down, all that was left was Emily’s pounding heart.

“I’m gay, too.”

It was hard to watch Paige’s face, in that moment. Emily had dreamed about coming out to Paige, about how the other girl would react, what she would say. Her fantasies oscillated between nightmarish to all-too-idealistic, without any middle ground, and Emily had used to be afraid of reality taking shape as the former. Already, though, the circumstances were different, more hopeful—and so she forced herself to watch, forced herself to scrutinize every inch of Paige’s face as it transitioned from shock to thought to a slow, almost tearful smile.

“So this whole situation… Could have been avoided?” Paige’s words were edged with a careful, yet still somewhat hysteric quality, her face twisted with hurt behind the relief. Emily squeezed tighter.

“I guess so.”

It was hard to guess what Emily might have done next; she _wanted_ to lean in and kiss Paige, celebrate telling one secret by spilling another. Staring at Paige, holding her hand, melting at her expression, Emily wanted to comfort her, hold her closer, hold her forever.

Before she could even confront those thoughts, the moment was interrupted by a loud, high-pitched squeal.

“Hanna!” Spencer snapped, “What was that for?”

“What?” Hanna shot an unapologetic look to the others, “Don’t you all see what’s happening here?” smiling, she addressed Paige and Emily in a knowing tone, “You two should _totally_ hook up.”

Despite being out, despite the feelings she was currently struggling to hold in, the outright suggestion of openly dating Paige still felt like a kick to Emily’s stomach. Catching Paige’s crestfallen face, her stomach fell further.

_It’s not supposed to happen like this._

“Hanna…” she squeaked out, trying to protest, trying to find the right words to assure Paige that it wasn’t her that was the problem…

Paige’s grip loosened, and Emily fell silent, afraid to reach out again.

“You guys have time to worry about that later.” Emily turned around to shoot Aria a grateful look as the tiny brunette continued, “We need to focus on getting Paige back into orchestra.”

“Yeah, but… How?” Paige frowned, turning in her seat to address her other friends. “We don’t have any proof of what happened, and it does seem a little far-fetched, doesn’t it?”

“ _Not_ necessarily…” Spencer brought her hands to her mouth, thumbs twiddling as her brows knit together in thought. The others waited with bated breath for her to finish her thought, knowing better than to interrupt or try to contribute. Finally, after what seemed like forever, Spencer’s face relaxed, her thumbs freezing and hands folding over in satisfaction.

“What?” Aria questioned, leaning in, “What’s your plan?”

Spencer shot a knowing look to Aria before looking at Paige, then turning a terrifying, yet somehow reassuring smile to Emily.

  
"All right," she began, "It's gonna go like this..."


	11. Chapter 11

Paige put the suit carefully down on her bed, jittery fingers smoothing down the wrinkles appearing on its arms.

Today was the Halloween dance.

The plan was simple; Paige and Emily would go to the dance together, pretending to be together. They would hold hands, they would dance, they would kiss. Alison would see them, would threaten Paige, maybe take pictures, and the other girls would catch her in the act, Fulton in tow.

Only it wasn’t that easy. Not for Paige. Of course it would only be play for Emily; Emily was beautiful, Emily was talented, Emily was smart. Emily was selfless and kind. Paige was… None of those things, as least not the way Emily was.

Paige wanted Emily.

But even though Emily was gay, Emily would never like Paige.

And the realization that everything she wanted, even while she was _so close_ , would always be a fantasy, a rehearsal without recital, was too much for her to bear.

“Sweetie!” Paige jumped at her mother’s voice, arms flying off the sleeves of her suit and gluing themselves to her stiffened sides. She hadn’t spoken much to her mother since coming out, the two of them going about separate daily routines, only ever seeming to catch eyes when her father wasn’t around. It was hard to know what her mother was thinking, lately, though Paige knew she’d felt the same emotions. The shock, the confusion. The disappointment.

The acceptance, maybe before she was ready.

It was funny, how things connected like that.

“Paige?” her mother burst through the door, breaking Paige’s thoughts. “How come you didn’t answer, honey?”

“Sorry.” Paige muttered, eyes downcast. There was silence, heavy and hard, weighing down on the room, pressing Paige into herself, until her mother finally coughed, poking through the barrier.

“Paige…” she stepped closer to her daughter, and Paige had to fight a sudden urge to tread back. “Are you all ready for tonight?”

“Yeah.” Paige couldn’t look at her mother; she could only stiffen further, so that her jaw scarcely moved to accommodate the words escaping it.

“Oh,” her mother moved closer, “That’s good. I… Um… Are you going with anyone?”

Paige’s eyes flitted up, catching her mother’s gaze, and she relaxed slightly. “Yeah.”

“Oh.”

“I’m going with Emily.”

“Emily?” was it just Paige, or did her mother smile faintly at the invocation of Emily’s name? “Emily’s a nice girl,” her mother spoke softly, gray eyes tender, “Have you been… uh… Out with her before?”

Paige looked away again, and her mother closed the gap between them, laying a hand frantically on her shoulder.

“Paige… I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be invasive.” Paige knew her mother, knew without looking how hard she was trying, how desperately she wanted answers. Wanted to get back what she felt she’d lost, what Paige felt they’d never had.

Paige knew how that felt; and so she obliged.

“It wasn’t invasive, mom,” Paige gave a terse smile, “It’s just a little complicated between the two of us right now. I’m not… This is the first time either of us are trying… anything like this. And I’m not sure what’s going to happen, or really even how she feels about it.”

“Oh, sweetie…” Paige let her mother grab her chin, let her gently guide their eyes together. “Look, I may not be that comfortable with all this… _gay_ stuff, but heartbreak knows no gender. Neither does your situation. And trust me when I say I’ve been there, and I know that you’ve _nothing_ to worry about.”

Letting go of her daughter, she winked and turned towards Paige’s bed, where the suit was still laid out, still waiting. “Now,” she sighed, “Let’s get you all ready for your big date, hm?”

“But… That’s not for another couple of hours!”

“Oh,” her mother straightened up, casting Paige a mischievous look, “Well, in that case… I haven’t heard you practice your flute in a while. Hop to it!”

 

At six o’clock on the dot, the doorbell rang. Paige didn’t hear it at first—she was still practicing, obsessing over her tone when gliding between octaves in Air on the G-String, and the chimes announcing her friends’ arrival were lost in the frustration of F#.

“Paige!” she stopped mid-note, gingerly putting her flute down on her bed before running out of the room to see Aria, Hanna, and Spencer standing impatiently in her front hall.

And then there was Emily. She entered last, a flurry of sapphire-blue chiffon and silver accents, walking on heels as if floating on a cloud. Her hair was down, curled and hair-sprayed in place so that it bounced as she came to stand by the others, up and down, Paige watching intently as it went.

Emily looked beautiful. And as if to illustrate all her fears, Paige hadn’t even changed.

“Oops…”

“Paige!” Spencer snapped, Hanna and Aria’s tight grips the only thing keeping her from charging upstairs. “Why aren’t you _dressed_? Toby, Caleb, and Holden are all waiting in the car, and now we’re going to be late! Late _for our plans!_ ”

 “Cool it.” Hanna rolled her eyes. “Paige, go back into your room, get dressed. Take your time. We’ll take Animal over here back outside.”

Paige nodded, watching as her friends filed one by one, Emily lingering before finally turning around to exit.

“Not you,” Paige watched Hanna block Emily from the front door, “Go and help Paige get dressed.”

“But—“

“Yeah, yeah. Just go.”

Paige felt a little twinge in her chest while watching Emily sigh, teetering on her feet for a moment before removing her shoes and briskly walking inside the house, tanned legs peeking out from under her skirts as she hopped up the stairs to where Paige stood. There Emily stood, looking Paige up and down, Paige trying not to stare too hard at Emily’s hips, her bare arms, her barely-exposed chest.

_Go on, McCullers—Do something!_

“So… We should get ready…”

“Yeah,” Emily voice was heavy, but still somehow scarcely audible, “I guess we should.”


	12. Chapter 12

Walking into Paige’s room, looking at her bed, her desk, her underthings strewn on the floor, Emily had to force herself to remain calm. Her efforts might have kept her outsides in one piece, but inside she could feel everything melting away, jitters replacing where solid rock once dwelled.

“So…” Paige hovered, body rocking back and forth between her bed and where Emily stood. Emily frowned, her heart jarring to a stop—was this an invitation?

Hope faded to embarrassment, however, when she realized that Paige’s suit was draped across the bed.

“Do you want me to… Um…” Emily gravitated towards the door, but her hands remained frozen by her sides.

“No,” Paige turned her back to Emily, grabbing her suit, “Nothing’s changed, right? You can stay. It’s cool.”

Why did she sound so doubtful?

“Okay,” Emily swallowed hard, her eyes widening as Paige began to undress. First she took off her shirt, revealing a plain black sports bra that cut across her back, ending just below her shoulderblades. Next came her pants, one swift motion that put them to the floor, leaving her in loose, faded boy shorts. Emily sucked in a breath, unable to avert her eyes from Paige’s ass as it moved side to side, up and down, while she walked.

“You okay?” Paige turned around to address Emily. Quickly, just in time, Emily tore her gaze away from Paige, onto the mirror in the corner of her room.

“Uh… Yeah.” the mirror was reflecting Paige’s front, and Emily could see the outline of Paige’s nipples poking through the thin black fabric of her bra.

“Okay. I’m gonna need a little help with the tie in a sec…” Paige’s face was stony, cold, even. Turning away again, she bent over and rushed through putting on her pants and shirt, doing up the buttons with deft fingers before turning back to Emily, tie in hand.

“You sure you’re okay?” it was Emily who was embarrassed; why was Paige blushing?

“Yeah.” Emily repeated, suddenly very aware of the rehearsed quality the affirmation had taken. How often had she used that as an excuse, a write-off to get people to leave her alone, leave her answers unquestioned? “Give me that tie.”

Paige obliged, extending her hand slowly, daintily, towards Emily. Licking her lips, Emily raised a hand to take the tie, skin brushing skin as she grasped the fabric. Her heart jumped, and her eyes flitted to Paige’s.

Paige was looking right back.

Reflecting back on it later, Emily wasn’t sure what had happened just then—she wasn’t sure she _needed_ to be, really. What mattered is that she and Paige had locked glances, and before she knew what she was doing, her hand moved from the tie to Paige’s hand, then her wrist, and up and up until it had planted itself on her shoulder.

It was Paige who made the next move, her hands travelling down, fingers grazing Emily’s stomach along the way to her waist.

“Emily…” Paige whispered, her breath hot on Emily’s mouth.

“Don’t say anything,” Emily’s whole body buzzed, her head spinning every time she even tried to look away, “Just… Don’t look away.”

Emily wasn’t sure what had happened just then, but that didn’t mean she regretted it.

The next thing she knew, they were kissing, Paige’s lips pressed firm against her, oscillating between embouchures.

Low register. Middle.

Emily opened her mouth, easing her tongue into Paige’s.

High.

They were playing with each other now, Emily’s hands busying themselves in Paige’s hair, her throat humming as Paige’s nails dug into her skin, raking themselves down to her ass and staying there, grasping gently. Emily smiled underneath the kisses, unable to believe it even as her dreams were unfolding practically on top of her. She pressed deeper, and Paige receded enough to let out a low, enthusiastic moan.

Emily couldn’t help it; she started out giggling, her laughter growing until she had to tear herself away from Paige.

“What was that?” Paige looked confused, though not unpleased.

“I’m sorry…” Emily wiped her eyes, careful not to disturb her mascara, “It’s just that I used to fantasize about this all the time. I can’t believe it’s finally happening.”

“You… You fantasized about this?” a smile spread across Paige’s face, reflecting a mixture of disbelief and utter joy.

“Yeah.” Emily nodded, wrapping her arms around Paige once more, pressing their hips together. “The thing is, Paige, I…”

Paige brought a single finger up to Emily’s lips.

“Don’t tell me,” her eyes twinkled mischeviously, “Show me.”

They resumed kissing, longer this time, more sure of themselves. Emily’s hands grazed Paige’s neck, moving down to stroke her back, absorbing the heat from behind her sports bra. At the same time, the heat between her legs grew as Paige played with Emily’s hair, thumbs petting along her face. She didn’t know how long they’d been doing it, or how much more she could take—heat became hunger became absolute frustration, and her tonguing became faster, more aggressive, more searching. Her hands were at the band of Paige’s bra now, fingers twitching with anticipation at what she hoped would come next

“Paige,” she gasped, “Can I… Can I touch your breasts?”

Paige smiled, leaning back into another kiss, grabbing the back of Emily’s head and pressing their jaws more firmly together.

“Sure.”

With that go ahead, Emily was off, her hands gliding under Paige’s bra and working around to the front of her body, driving a wedge between them. Unsure of what to do, but hoping Paige liked the improv, Emily cupped Paige’s breasts in her hands, bouncing them up and down, pressing to feel the flesh move between her fingers. Paige’s movements against her became more intense, her pelvis pressing into Emily’s. Taking this as a sign of confirmation, Emily pressed onwards, gently tracing a finger around Paige’s areola, pinching at the hard nipples. Paige seemed to melt underneath her, slack body weighing against Emily’s as her hands travelled down Emily’s back, feeling through the material of her dress.

“Fuck.” she moaned against Emily’s tongue, and Emily smiled. Paige was no saint—‘shit’ got dropped on the daily with her—but it was somehow pleasing to know that she was the reason Paige was swearing, made the thirst between her legs that much more urgent. Emily continued to play with Paige’s nipples, working them back and forth between her thumbs and index fingers until Paige couldn’t stand it any longer, and forced herself away from Emily, each of them panting for breath.

“You’re amazing.” Paige grinned with admiration.

“Really?” Emily cocked her head, giving a coy smile, “Because I haven’t even started yet.”

Silence moved in, though not uncomfortably—rather, it was pregnant, full of unspoken questions, answers, and possibilities. Emily waited patiently, growing more and more eager to jump back onto Paige with every heartbeat that passed.

Finally, Paige broke the tension.

“Would you like to show me?”


	13. Chapter 13

With that one request, Emily became a different person. Well, not really—she was still Emily, still checking with Paige every other second to make sure she was okay as they stripped each other, first Paige’s shirt, then Emily’s dress, and so on so forth until they were in their underwear, kissing again. This time, though, Emily was firmer, more guiding, like she had a job to do. Paige nodded under Emily, and Emily, not breaking their kiss, began to push Paige lightly, carefully, over to the bed in the corner of the room.  Her hands went down over Paige’s breasts, and Emily pushed her down onto the bed from there, the pressure making Paige groan enthusiastically.

“You sure you want to do this?” Emily panted between kisses, slowing her movements.

“All year.” Paige reached around and grabbed Emily’s neck, pulling her closer. Emily laughed, kissing Paige again, long and slow this time. Paige sighed contentedly, continuing to play with Emily’s hair while Emily kissed downward, moving from Paige’s mouth to her neck to her collarbone, a sweet spot Paige hadn’t known she had. Paige’s grip tightened, and Emily giggled before pressing harder with her mouth, biting softly.

“ _Emily_.” Paige hissed, her hands gliding from Emily’s hair to her back, fingers fiddling with the strap of her bra.

“Take it off,” Emily invited her, “Can I take off yours?”

Paige couldn’t respond, only nod her head in anticipation before Emily slid her hands underneath Paige’s bra, once again playing with her breasts before working the bra up and over Paige’s head all together. Paige breathed faster, struggling to focus on the movement of her fingers across Emily’s straps. Finally, she wrestled the garment free, warmth surging through her at Emily’s sigh of relief.

“Now,” Emily grabbed Paige’s hands and coursed them smoothly over her own body, “If I do anything you don’t like, say it.”

“I trust you.” Paige’s hands were on Emily’s breasts now, and she tried to copy Emily’s earlier techniques, inadequacy worming away at her chest while she worked the flesh between her fingers. Emily gasped, and the feelings of doubt quickly faded as Paige focused on making her do it again.

This wasn’t to say that Emily was doing nothing; while Paige worked, Emily had bent over to resume kissing, moving down to Paige’s breasts. Paige grunted, a sudden frustration rising at how Emily kissed around her nipple, teasing. Finally, Paige felt the wet satisfaction of Emily’s mouth right where she wanted it, tongue working and sucking until Paige was a wet, writhing mass beneath it. Paige tightened her grip, letting go of one breast and bringing her hand to tickle at Emily’s waist, the hitching of breath enough confirmation for her to continue exploring the contours of Emily’s body, pinching and lingering at leisure. Emily responded in kind, continuing to suck while raking her nails gently over Paige’s body, pausing when she’d reached the waistband of Paige’s boy-shorts.

Paige plunged her hands underneath the fabric of Emily’s panties, grabbing at the soft flesh below. Emily understood Paige’s signal; she was ready, she wanted Emily to do the same. And so Emily did, cautiously working a hand down past Paige’s curls, a single finger slipping into Paige’s folds. Paige opened her legs slightly so that Emily could continue, and centred her mouth onto the nape of Emily’s neck, sucking and nibbling, still in the habit of mirroring Emily’s impressive talents. Her mouth froze, however, when Emily’s movements, small, light circles, became harder, faster, more impactful. Paige sucked in a breath, trying not to cry out over the increasingly wet sounds of Emily’s finger working up and down over Paige’s clit.  Paige’s hips bucked into Emily’s hand, breath deserting her.

“Faster,” she pleaded, and Emily went faster.

“Harder!” she whined, and Emily pressed harder.

­ _Fu—_

Before Paige could vocalize, or even fully process her orgasm, a strangled shriek interrupted her.

“Mom?” Paige shot straight up to face the intruder, Emily rocketing off of Paige and nearly falling off the bed in shock.

“No,” Spencer’s face, a mix of anger, disgust, and exasperation, poked out from the doorway, “Just Spencer. What the fuck are you two _doing_?”

“Well…” Emily started, and Paige almost laughed despite her mortification. Glancing back at Spencer, however, Paige shrank when she saw just how unamused the brunette looked.

“No,” Spencer closed her eyes, sucking in a sharp breath, “I don’t want to know. Just… You two were supposed to be getting _dressed_. Honestly. Now look at you, _and_ we’re definitely going to be late.”

“Sorry.” They answered in unison, eyes downcast. Paige tried not to look at the floor, which was strewn with Emily’s ball-gown, Paige’s pants, her tie. Reminders of what Spencer had just caught them doing.

“Well?” Spencer shrieked, “Hop to it!”

They lingered for a moment, unsure of what to do while Spencer was still watching. Catching on to their hesitation, Spencer rolled her eyes.

“Really?” she gave a harsh laugh, “You guys think I’m going to leave you alone to finish off? Oh, no. I’m staying right here and making sure you _focus_. Might I remind you that the only reason we’re even _going_ is for your benefit?”

Paige had never been good at dealing with Spencer; luckily, Emily was right beside her.

“Yeah, we know.” Emily rolled her eyes, sliding off the bed and picking up the clothes off the floor, tossing Paige the crumpled items that belonged to her. “Come on, we’d better hurry.”

 

“Sheesh, took you guys long enough.” Paige opened the door of Toby’s truck to a questioning frown from Aria, Hanna and Caleb peeking out from behind.

“We… Um… Had an incident.” Paige avoided eye contact, sliding in beside Aria and scooching over to make room for Emily, who seemed significantly less bothered.

“Incident?” Aria’s frown deepened, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means they have no shame.” Spencer opened the passenger door, storming into her seat up front. “God, Paige, what if your mom heard?”

Emily grabbed Paige’s hand and gave it a gentle squeeze, which sort of worked; it was nice to know that Emily would be beside her, but the suggestion of the danger she might have invited was still too close for comfort.

“Wait… _Heard_?” Hanna grinned, “What, exactly, was this ‘incident’?”

Paige’s face got hotter, and Emily’s grip got tighter.

“Oh my _God_.” Spencer growled to Toby, “Just drive. Just drive.”

“It means we were… Having a little fun.” Emily sighed, turning to look away.

“Having a little—Wait a second, Em, what happened to your hair?” silence moved in on Aria’s question for a few moments before Aria answered her own question with an _Ohh._

Paige sucked in a breath, turning her palm in Emily’s so she could squeeze back.

“So… Does this mean you two are together?”

Paige and Emily turned to look at Holden in unison, Paige sensing that Emily was just as shocked as she that he’d commented.

“Uh…” Paige heard herself stammer, turning to look back at Emily. What _did_ it mean? Sure, they’d had sex, and sure, that meant a lot to Paige, but she didn’t want to be presumptuous. Emily gave her an unreadable look, and Paige reddened, realizing she’d spoken out loud.

“It meant a lot to me, too.” Emily’s face broke into a smile, bright and full of relief. “And… I didn’t want to pressure you into anything…”

“You… You like me?” Paige tried to control her expression, tried not to look as shocked as she felt.

“YES!” they both jumped, Emily nearly crushing Paige’s hand, at Spencer’s harsh interruption. “Everybody likes everybody! It’s just a grand gay feelings-fest! Now will you both just be quiet so I can get the image of… _hanky-panky_ out of my head?”

Paige laughed, harder and more sincerely than she had in a long time. Leaning over, she kissed Emily on the cheek, delighted by how warm it felt, how much hotter it became on contact.

Paige was with Emily Fields. How often had she dreamed of that? How often had she pushed those feelings away, convinced it would never happen?

And now, as Toby rounded the corner to the school, they were about to make it official. The realization would have normally made a pit open up in Paige’s stomach. Riding in the car now, though, holding Emily’s—her _girlfriend’s_ —hand, she was perfectly calm; Emily would make sure that everything would be okay.

"All right," Toby smiled at them through the rearview mirror, shifting the car into park, "We're here."


	14. Chapter 14

By the time Emily and her friends arrived, the dance was already in full swing. Hundreds of students, some in costume and some in generic formal dress, moved and swayed together, the loud drone of excited chatter rising above pounding pop music. Emily grimaced at the vibrations coursing through the floor; she’d never been a fan of techno, but she supposed not everything could be Baroque arias. It was what the people would want. Attaching itself to that note, Emily’s mind raced as she surveyed the room, scanned every individual face to make sure they weren’t watching— _yet_. The minute Paige joined her—the minute they came _together_ —Emily would be exposed, and the whole school would be paying attention.

Was it just her, or was it getting harder to breathe?

“Is Alison here yet?” Emily started as Paige came up behind her, grabbing around her waist and pulling her close.

“Yeah.” Emily swallowed hard, voice barely audible over the music. She turned to look at her girlfriend, and guilt moved in over her nerves; Paige looked happy, excited even, like she was finally in her element. Emily remembered that expression, the way it flitted across Paige’s face when she played the flute, walked into the band-room with the case slapping against her thigh.

It was the same commanding confidence she’d fallen in love with.

“Hey, is something wrong?” the expression on Paige’s face disappeared as fast as it had come, worry writing itself in her furrowed brow, her downturned lips. Emily smiled weakly, a sudden protective feeling searing through her gut.

“It’s nothing.” she smiled weakly, “There’s nothing you have to worry about.” And she meant it; it didn’t matter how she felt about being exposed, didn’t matter how ready she was to be out in the open. If she was serious about dating Paige, then it would happen eventually; the only difference between ‘now’ and ‘later’ was the impact it would have on her girlfriend’s life.

She knew Paige would never force her to do anything; that didn’t mean she wouldn’t force herself, especially if it would benefit Paige like this.

“Are you sure?” Paige held Emily a little tighter, her breath stilling.

“Look, Paige,” Emily sighed, “I want to do this, okay? The way you were smiling just now… I want to put that smile back on your face, forever. And I’m going to do whatever it takes.”

Paige looked at her for a moment, eyes squinted and mouth pursed in scrutiny. Emily waited, trying to relax into Paige’s arms, trying to make sure she came across as if nothing was wrong. As if everything would be okay.

“Okay.” Paige let go of Emily’s waist, her hands falling to Emily’s and latching on.

“Okay.” Emily repeated, smiling widely. “Say,” the smile disappeared as she remembered her other friends, “Where are the others?”

“Right here!” Aria, dressed in a perky Minnie-Mouse costume, came bouncing through the crowd, a less-than-enthused-looking Holden in tow with Hanna and Spencer following closely behind. “We were scouting out for Alison and Jenna.”

“And?” Emily moved a little closer to Paige, her heart picking up double-time.

“And they’re right below.” Spencer smiled, half-encouraging and half-proud, and Emily would have laughed if it weren’t for how her nerves had come on.

“What’s with the smile?” Paige vocalized Emily’s thoughts, “Spencer, what did you do?”

“Ooh, nothing…” Spencer’s face became unreadably smug, her gaze evading anyone else’s, “Just dropped a couple hints about a cute lesbian couple while they were within earshot. Judging from their faces, they’re well aware you’re here now, which means they’ll be on their worst behaviour.”

A wave of nausea overcame Emily, dizziness obscuring her view of the room. She knew Spencer well enough to know how subtle ‘hints’ were, what radius ‘within earshot’ meant.

It was happening. It was really happening, all according to someone _else’s_ plan.

“Emily.” Paige grabbed Emily by the waist again, steadying her, “We don’t have to do this, okay? We can back out now. Spencer can pretend she was drunk. Right, Spence?”

“What?” Spencer frowned in confusion, her voice high with hurt, “What’s wrong with my plan, I like my plan just fine.”

“Yeah,” Emily squeezed Paige’s hand, burrowing her face in Paige’s shoulder, “You’re not _involved_ in your plan. Don’t you think this is happening all… A little too soon?”

“Actually, I hate to break it to you, but it’s now or never.” Aria moved closer, patting Emily on the back as Paige rubbed her side up and down, up and down in a slow, comforting rhythm. Emily said nothing, only sighed; her friends were, of course, right. Straightening up a little, she shrugged Aria off, letting go of Paige. Stepping out of her circle of friends, she paused only long enough to turn back and gesture for Paige to follow.

It was now or never, and Emily was determined to do this right.

 

It was half an hour before anything exciting happened. Emily guided Paige out to the dance floor, and they wrapped their arms around each other, moving as slowly, as moderately as they could to the fast, grinding beat of Lady Gaga and the orgy of noise unfolding around them. It had been hard, at first, for Emily to relax; even with Paige dancing against her, she couldn’t help but glance around herself, trying to make sure no one was watching. And there were a few glances, a couple of approving nods or surly glares. With every look they received, Emily held Paige just a little tighter, danced just a little more freely, as if enjoying herself with Paige would protect them both from judgment. Maybe it was working; Paige’s smile was incandescent, her heartbeat fast up against Emily’s own, and she never once looked around at the others. Emily supposed she was in awe; it was Paige with the conservative parents, Paige who had been kicked out of orchestra. Paige with everything to lose.

So why was she dancing around now as if she had nothing?

“You know…” Paige lowered her head so that her lips grazed Emily’s ear, and Emily faltered a little, feeling the smirk against her skin. “I always dreamed of this happening. I liked you since the day I met you, I just… Didn’t think it was ever going to happen. Not even because I didn’t approve; just because you’re so pretty, so smart, so talented… So nice…”

“Paige—“ Emily started, but she was cut off.

“No, let me finish.” Paige’s voice was hard, determined, yet somehow hushed and vulnerable, “Being here with you now… Thinking about what happened at my house… I can’t believe it’s happening. And that puts everything into perspective for me.” pulling herself away from Emily, looking into her eyes, Paige continued, “I realize now that judgment doesn’t matter. As long as I’m here… As long as I’m with you… I need to focus on enjoying it. Because I’ll never know when it will be taken away.”

Emily smiled despite the hot, prickly feeling of tears welling up in her eyes. How did Paige, perfectly imperfect Paige, always know exactly what to say? In that moment, though, the _how_ and the _why_ didn’t matter. Leaning closer, Emily planted a kiss on Paige’s lips, hoping that the simple gesture would communicate how sorry she was, how relieved, how she felt the same way. Hoping it would show Paige just how much she loved her, and just what that meant.

And it was at that moment, with her eyes closed and lips pressed to Paige’s, their bodies warm and close and comfortable, that the world seemed to explode.

“Well, look at these two.” Alison’s slow, dripping drawl cut like a knife between Emily and Paige, forcing them apart. “Don’t they make a good couple, Jenna?”

“Yeah, they do.” Jenna’s voice was loud, as if she _wanted_ the rest of the world to notice—and, Emily saw, they did. Her heart pounding, Emily clung a little closer to Paige, trying to ignore the intrigued, objectifying stares they were garnering.

“You have one more second to leave us alone, Jenna.” Paige hugged Emily back, comforting her.

“We’re not the ones you should be threatened by.” Alison laughed, gesturing around herself, and a pang of understanding hit Emily square in the chest—Alison’s plan was never to use blackmail directly. No, Alison _never_ did her own dirty work; it would be the pictures and statuses and seemingly harmless tweets about Rosewood High’s newest lesbians that brought Paige down, kicked her out of her home.

A camera flashed. Emily looked back at Paige’s face, dismay filling her body as she saw how pale it had become.

_No._

Anger bubbled out from the dismay, rising into her throat, making her head spin.

She had to protect Paige.

“What do you want?” she barked, scanning the crowd again, not for glares this time, but for the presence of her friends, her partners-in-crime. Noticing Hanna dragging Fulton towards the crowd, courage joined rage and Emily felt the colour rising back in her cheeks, the conviction returning to her words. “Can’t you leave us alone?”

“That’s what we asked of you,” Jenna hissed, equally caught up in the moment, “You didn’t keep up your end of the deal, why should we keep up ours?”

Emily smiled with satisfaction, making a small gesture for Paige to look into the crowd. Jenna wasn’t nearly as careful as Alison, but she wasn’t half as desperate as Paige and Emily, either. And it looked like those flaws had finally turned out fatal.

“What deal is that?” Jenna froze, body becoming rigid and face falling slack with shock as she turned slowly to face Ms. Fulton.

“Alison, Jenna,” the woman continued, folding her arms and staring them down, “I’ve heard some things about you two, and I think it’s time you explained them.”


	15. Chapter 15

“You ready?” Emily stopped in front of the music room, her hand loose and relaxed against Paige’s.

“Yeah.” Paige smiled, her whole body buzzing with anticipation as she stopped next to her girlfriend, leaning a little against the doorway, “God, it’s only been a couple weeks, but it feels like _forever_ since I’ve been here.”

“Well, we missed you.” Emily returned Paige’s smile, her eyes coy. Paige laughed, half-nervous and half-overjoyed at their situation.

It was the first orchestra rehearsal since the Halloween dance, and the ensemble’s natural order had finally been restored. Jenna and Alison were serving week-long suspensions, having been expelled completely from any musical ensembles, and even though the thought of their return lay waiting at the back of Paige’s mind, she was determined not to let it ruin the safety and happiness she was feeling now. She and Emily had dealt with them once; if needed, they could do it again.

The student body, too, had gotten used to them being together, grown accustomed to kisses by the bio room and games of footsie under the caf tables. Even Paige’s father, hearing water-cooler gossip from kids at the parish, had come to finally accept his daughter, though not easily. She had to admit; even with all the turmoil and the pain of the last few weeks, she wouldn’t take any of it back.

Leaning forward to plant a kiss on her cheek, Paige let Emily lead her into the music room.

 

Paige lapped at Emily’s folds, the tip of her tongue working double time as it brushed against the hood of Emily’s clit.

“Fuck!” Emily growled softly, rocking against the confines of their space.

They hadn’t meant to end up like this, both of them still in their black shoes and concert-vests, riding the high from that evening’s Christmas concert. Paige had only wanted to bring Emily in to congratulate her on a performance well done, their duet of _O Holy Night_ still ringing in her ears. Was it her fault that Lucas, off doing an encore with the jazz ensemble, had left his case in the middle of the floor? Who was to blame for the cold, misty air in the room, atmosphere that begged for her and Emily to get closer?

Whatever the reason, Emily had dragged her over to the case, bending their bodies to fit in snugly, Paige on top teasing Emily’s shirt right off. One thing had snowballed into another, and Emily’s hands were kneading Paige’s ass, nails leaving tingling marks on her flesh. Paige didn’t mind; she liked it when Emily was rough, just like Emily liked things gentle. Kissing Emily’s clit, Paige wrapped her lips around it and sucked lightly, fighting the smile that began to spread when she heard Emily’s breath hitch in delight. Emily squirmed underneath her, bucking her hips up and down, bumping them side to side against the case’s velveteen lining. Paige felt the wetness between her own legs grow, and she moved her hands along Emily’s thigh, tracing a path to where the folds peeked open. Licking one large, exaggerated stroke, she brought her chin away from Emily.

“Can I try penetrating you?” she panted guiltily, noticing the stricken, accusatory look of a girlfriend just a little too close to coming for comfort.

Emily frowned, considering it for a second. “Sure,” she nodded, her hands still flitting along Paige’s body, determined not to let the mood die, “But if it hurts I want you out, and don’t stop with your tongue.”

“Got it!” Paige gave a goofy thumbs-up before settling back into her rhythm, Emily easing back into her tongue as she slowly, carefully, wriggled a single finger inside of her, not pushing, but just setting it there, waiting for Emily to get a little wetter. She brushed her other hand along Emily’s thigh, tickling and pinching, listening to her girlfriend’s noises for all the feedback she needed. Finally, the slippery, warm feeling Emily had given her so many times replicated itself on her own hand, and Paige could push her finger in just a little farther.

” _Paige!”_ Emily screamed. Paige smiled, and repeated the action harder, faster, in and out again and again. She could feel Emily’s core getting hotter, her motions getting more intense, and knew she was close—

“Oh my _GOD!_ ” the raspy, panicked voice jerked Paige out of her mood and into panic, and she quickly withdrew herself from Emily, who was struggling to sit up and face Spencer.

“Again?! How many times am I going to do this?” Spencer sighed, covering her eyes with tight, tired fingers. " _Why_?"

"Well, it's not like we asked you to interrupt..." Paige's protest was cut off by a sharp, bare-teethed glower from Spencer between the cracks of her fingers.

“Um, _not the point_? Seriously, you guys are really lucky the recital’s still going on. What would Lucas say?”

“Probably thank his lucky stars.” Emily muttered drily, and Paige snickered despite herself. Spencer, however, didn’t look as amused. Casting them a stern glare, Spencer picked Emily and Paige’s dresses off the floor, tossing them over to where they still huddled, half in the case and half out.

“Come on,” she sighed, assuming a watchdog stance with her arms folded over impatiently, “Get dressed. The Overture’s on in five minutes, and Paige, you need to be ready.”

“Right,” Paige’s body buzzed as she moved to get dressed, her insides a muddle of nerves and excitement. “Let’s go.”

 

The orchestra moved around Paige, settling into their seats, adjusting instruments. Strings plucked out notes in soft pizzicatos, and a clarinet squeezed out a wavering warm-up note.

Beside her, Emily sat still, hand pressed firmly onto Paige’s.

“You ready?”

Paige didn’t respond to the question, only smiled, sliding her hand out from under Emily’s and placing it on her flute.

It didn’t matter if she was _ready_ ; she’d had more rehearsal for this than anything else that had happened in her life. What mattered was that right here, right now, everyone around her would support her, even if she screwed up.  So far, everything had worked out fine, and she was confident that this one show would be the same. After all, you couldn’t control the performance, not really; you could only let go and hope for the best.

The curtain went up, and they began to play.  


End file.
